


Golden Boy

by sangueuk



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 20:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangueuk/pseuds/sangueuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kirk returns to Earth after defeating Nero, an old ‘flame’ tries to blackmail him. Kirk takes matters into his own hands - (inspired by a prompt – link in notes at the end of the fic.)<br/>Disclaimer: I mean no offence and court no profits, these boys belong to others more talented and deserving, I merely borrow them, play a while then return them all cleaned up and smiley.</p><p>beta: lindmere</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Boy

**Golden Boy**

Looking at the pictures now, Mart Currie doubted anyone, apart from Starfleet and world leaders, would have had time to catch up, events had moved so fast. Still, how could he not have realised that Earth had been on the brink of destruction? He’d heard a distant noise and he realised now that it must have been the drill breaking and crashing into the bay thirty miles away.

Five minutes ago, he’d been jerking off to one of his numerous home movies and next thing, his monitor had split into two views, cutting in automatically with a newsflash. On the right, images blinked up one after the other of Vulcan imploding, the Golden Gate Bridge and the drill, the Enterprise; on the left, a close-up of his cock from above with those full pink lips stretched across its girth and the unmistakable face of James T. Kirk, eyes wide and bright, cheeks flushed.

“Play,” he ordered and he heard his own voices say, _“You fucking like that, don’t you, you little slut?”_ Kirk’s eyes dropped shut. Yes, he patently did. “Pause,” Mart said.

Mart glanced at the newsfeed. There he was, the little bastard, face all beat up, grinning ear-to-ear and in Starfleet uniform, being interviewed live across space. _LIVE: pictures from Saturn’s orbit_ scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Someone in a blue shirt with wild eyes fussed behind him, tapping Kirk on the shoulder. He looked away from the screen, then glanced back at the interviewer, who said, “So how does it feel to be a hero, Cadet Kirk?”

Hmm, he’d have to send his congratulations; would be nice to get back in touch after all these years.

+++

McCoy hung back when Kirk emerged into the chaos of press waiting at the shuttle landing site, Spock by his side. It was so good to breathe real air again together with its pollution, germs and pollen. Nothing could have prepared his lungs for the shock of it, the sheer _variety_ after days of recycled fug. He winced in the sunlight, watching Kirk’s back as he straightened out on the gangway. McCoy knew Kirk would be stiff from the pounding he’d taken, especially around the ribs, and watched in concern when a dozen arms seemed to want to pat and embrace Jim all at once. The cameras flashed, a cacophony of voices, whoops, and rounds of applause came from every direction. McCoy felt a mixture of pride and fear. Kirk shone in the sunshine, his hair gleamed golden, his eyes and teeth bright, yet McCoy wondered how the kid would cope with all this attention?

+++

“Unbelievable, don’t you think?” McCoy said as he keyed in the number for his room, “You’ve just saved the planet and we’re sleeping here tonight?” Starfleet had agreed they could, they both needed normality after the craziness, as long as there was security posted outside the building. “As if you hadn’t proved you can handle yourself,” McCoy groused.

Kirk had run out of forced smiles some time ago; his face removed of them was gray and weary. He shrugged. “Tired, Bones,” he said, clearing his throat, his allergies kicking in already. He leaned against the wall and pulled himself back into action to half stumble though the doorway into McCoy’s small room. Halfway between the bed and the bathroom, he seemed undecided as to what was more necessary, shower or sleep.

“You want a shower?” McCoy came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Kirk’s waist, taking care not to exert any pressure and add to the aches and pains. He placed his chin on Kirk’s shoulder and kissed him gently on the temple, waiting for a decision. He loved the weight of him, had been dying to touch him like this for days.

“Dunno, Bones,” Kirk sighed, his eyes half closed. “Too many fucking people.”

McCoy wasn’t sure if he meant the press or those who had been lost. “I know, Jim,” he said. It didn’t matter which he meant; what counted was that, for a few hours at least, Kirk would be shielded from it all. A shower would symbolically wash pain away and he’d sleep better for it.

McCoy walked Kirk to the bathroom and stripped him slowly of his uniform, never once completely letting go. Jim shucked his shoes off and leaned on McCoy, eyes closed but awake. McCoy undid the front of the red jacket, eased it off his shoulders, threw it behind him onto the wooden floor – hell, Jim wouldn’t need it much longer anyway.

“Arms,” he said, and Kirk raised them so McCoy could pull his undershirt up over his head. The fabric dragging across his face made Kirk open his eyes for a minute and McCoy’s heart jolted for a second at the brilliance of them. Kirk dropped his arms onto McCoy’s shoulders and leaned in to kiss him, his lips gentle, weary, barely there but warm and moist. McCoy slipped his hands under Jim’s armpits and stroked down the sides to feel his bare skin.

“Careful…” Kirk whispered into his mouth, “hurts.”

“I know,” McCoy said. Their breath mingled, Kirk’s the faintest bit sour. “You’re dehydrated,” McCoy said. “I should give you something. And I can tell you haven’t taken your antihistamines for days.” Yeah, too busy saving the damned planet.

“Later,” Kirk managed.

Kirk’s pants were in a heap on the tile. All that was left was for him to remove underwear and socks. He sighed heavily as he did these simple tasks and fell against McCoy, rolling his chin into the dip of his shoulder, his stubble rubbing. “Too many clothes,” he mumbled, pulling half-heartedly at McCoy’s jacket, allowing himself to crumple against his friend and show vulnerability for the first time since they’d last been together. It made McCoy ache with want, the sheer humanity of the man.

“Let me fix the water and I’ll get undressed,” McCoy said a little gruffly. “Computer, water 70 degrees, medium flow and I like the steam.” He kept a hold of Kirk’s arm and stretched for the toothbrushes, squirted some toothpaste on one and handed it over. “Brush,” he said. “You’re never too tired to brush.”

“Mutha-fuckin’-hen,” Kirk groused, already scrubbing. He stepped into the flow of water and closed his eyes as he brushed his teeth. McCoy took a moment to enjoy Jim, unselfconscious, naked, half hard, the water caressing the lean, muscular lines of his athletic body, his hair darkened by it, clinging to his forehead. Plate-sized bruises stood out all over his torso and back, representing every color in the sludge palette. How had he not at least broken in two? Fuck. McCoy fumbled at his uniform. Kirk handed over his toothbrush and opened his mouth into the stream of water, rinsing and spitting onto the shower floor.

McCoy stepped into the stall and lifted a thumb to the corner of Jim’s mouth to wipe away a fleck of toothpaste. Jim’s tongue darted out to lick the tip then rested between his teeth. He fixed McCoy with an intense, clear-eyed look that shot straight to McCoy’s groin. He forced Jim round with a grunt and shoved his very hard cock against the shower-slick ass. McCoy held him like that, eyes closed, breathing in the scent of fake apple and mint from the shower gel he massaged into Kirk’s hard body, his lips in the back of Jim’s short hair, uncoiling as the too-hot water worked its way into stiff muscles.

“Jim,” he breathed into his neck, eyes closed, one hand snaking round to take a hold of Jim’s cock and set an unhurried rhythm. It was a statement, not a question, so Kirk said nothing and remained entirely passive, one hand braced against the shower wall, the other raised so he could cradle McCoy’s head behind him. McCoy licked at Jim’s wrist, water streaming down his nose and into his mouth as he ran hungry lips along the nape of Jim’s neck.

“Been too long,” he murmured into Kirk’s freckles; the last few days caught up with…shit, he really couldn’t get his head around what had occurred. McCoy focused on the heat of Kirk’s length in his grip, watched the water forming streams and brooks across the smooth skin of Jim’s shoulders, glanced at the floor at his feet on either side of Jim’s, how their toes responded with subtle little grips and stretches to their arousal. They looked so human, so fragile – how could it be that the choices they’d made affected so many? What if he hadn’t been so selfish and smuggled Jim onto the Enterprise? He rewound that moment in his mind’s eye, the way he wavered, spun round and dragged Jim back with him. Shit, since when did matters of life and death hang on tiny personal choices and affect whole damned planets? What kind of fucking world was this anyway? For the first time it hit him that he’d had a significant part to play too. Something like a sob threatened in his chest and he distracted himself by scraping his teeth along Jim’s muscled back.

He wondered how long Jim’s body and mind could withstand the pressure of command before he succumbed to gray hair and frown lines. For the time being, if the flame of energy evident in Jim’s bright eyes was anything to go by, once those bruises had faded and he’d caught up on sleep, the young features could soak up his burden of responsibility, the one he’d borne so readily.

Warm water anointed and lulled them with needle touches. He drew his hand back and forth along Kirk’s length, swirling his thumb along its head, a little harder, more insistent, taking care not crush his injured back and chest, soft, gentle, delicate, just touching him, enveloping him in a whisper of an embrace so that he was held but not hurt.

“I’m looking forward to going back,” he said into Jim’s ear.

Jim turned to look at him over his shoulder, eyebrows dark over pale eyes, the remnants of a fist-sized bruise spoiling the perfection of his left cheek, eyelashes sparkling with water droplets. He blinked and shook his head to dislodge some. “What? You’ve changed your tune.”

“No I’m still shittin’ myself, it’s just…it’ll be kinda nice to get away from all this an’ find some semblance of privacy.” And have you to my self, he might have said, if he’d been entirely stupid.

“A nice boring mission.” Jim pulled his mouth to his. “Now shut up and make me come.” Jim slid his hand over McCoy’s, running it up and down between the knuckles in time with McCoy’s movements as he jerked his cock nice and slow. He responded to McCoy’s teeth on his neck with the press of his ass against his cock.

“I’ve turned into the first lady…” Bones grouched, his cock trying to find some friction against Jim’s skin.

“Jesus, Bones, shut _up_!” Kirk’s chuckles turned into moans as the strokes became more brutal and the tender sucking on his ear lobe was replaced by infernally hot suggestions.

“Want me to stop talkin’, huh, telling you how I want to fuck you in the ass, show you who you belong to, do you? Want me to stop telling you?”

“No, don’t, fuck, _don’t stop_ …I…”

McCoy felt Jim’s jaw pressed against his ear, open and close as he choked out his name, bucking his hips into his hands. Finally, his body stopped pulsing and he sagged silently, turning to kiss Bones while he rubbed his hand through the torrent of water, over Jims’ belly, down to his balls to clean him up. McCoy gently jerked himself off into the cleft of Jim’s ass while Jim muttered all the right things, his blond head turned so Bones could hear, mouths hot and straining to kiss,

“Love you, Bones, come for me, that’s right, come _on_ , for _me_ …”

+++

Bones watched Jim sleep. Too wired to join him, he made a start on the huge amount of mail in his inbox. He watched video messages from Jocelyn, Joanna, his gram, but he decided to leave off replying till the morning when he hopefully wouldn’t look so worn out and worry them. He sent simple “I’m OK” emails and promised he’d get in touch the next day.

Splayed out on his back, Jim looked like he’d been dropped from a great height. No one had slept much on the trip home, especially not the bridge crew and engineering, occupied with making repairs. McCoy had camped out in medical, eviscerated and blackened from the hits it had taken, and kept a vigil over Pike. Even poor Spock looked shaken and drawn having suffered more loss than anyone. Jim hadn’t slept until he was sure Pike was out of danger, blaming himself for his severe injuries, convinced he should have gone in Pike’s place.

“They wouldn’t have taken you, you damned idiot, you were a cadet, shit, you _are_ a cadet…”

Bones felt an ice grip on his heart. He realised that as soon as Jim got a chance he’d be throwing himself into the role of hostage like it was a film part he’d been waiting his whole damned life for. And he knew that no one would _ever_ be able to talk Jim out of anything; you’d have to pull rank on him and/or forcibly remove him like a toddler from the situation (well, he’d fallen for the trick of being dumped on a distant planet once). God help them, no one would ever be able to shut him up again. It put the anxieties Bones had suppressed for three years into sharp relief. If only he could worry about Jim suffering in a bar brawl every other week. Now it would be torture, phaser fire, imprisonment, blood sucking snow monsters, add to that his own gut churning fear of the void of space, of transporter beams, unknown contaminations – give him something as simple as Jim being tossed through a saloon door and landing bloody lipped at his feet anytime.

Kirk’s comm buzzed again. Bones switched it off, tossed his t-shirt and slithered down into bed to fit over and beside Jim, breathing into his neck and staring at his out of focus face until he fell asleep too.

+++

McCoy woke with a start. For a moment he thought he’d fallen asleep in sickbay and the _bleep_ came from the machines. He half expected to feel his feet drop to the floor from his desk.

“Chapel, where’s Pi—”

He stopped mid sentence; the world clicked into place when he saw Jim’s skinny ass at the end of the bed in boxers. He sagged back against the pillows. They were in his shitty room; his _ordinary_ , shitty room with its real and unbreakable gravity and no star field swirling behind the blinds. Just as well, waking up with an erection in sickbay wouldn’t have been a good start to his career as a CMO.

“Mornin’, Captain Underpants,” he drawled, wriggling his toes down to the bottom of the bed so he could nudge Kirk in the ass.

“Hey,” Jim said, engrossed in the screen, his chin on his chest and one hand rubbed his neck.

“Fan mail?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Come up here and I’ll help you clear the cobwebs some. You can deal with all that shit later.”

Jim tossed the comm onto his pile of clothes on the floor and prowled up the bed, unblinking, licking his lips. Kirk reached the tented part of the bedclothes, stopped to feel McCoy through the sheet. “Hmm, what have we here?”

McCoy shrugged, trying hard not to grin. He folded his arms in mock indifference when Jim grabbed him hard. Jim raised his eyebrows, waiting for McCoy to capitulate how he liked - which would probably be in about two seconds. When was the bastard going to stop driving him crazy? McCoy thought, biting his lip. It was going to be hard on the ship, away from each other for interminable amounts of time, maybe at polar ends of the shift roster, sneaking around between their quarters. Fuck, he’d got used to sleeping together most nights.

“Suck me,” he growled. Jim stepped off the bed momentarily, dropped his underwear and kicked it aside, his cock bobbing. He looked fresher, Bones noted, and he seemed to be moving easily enough.

“What? _Now_?” Annoying, smirking.

“Yes _now_ , asshole.”

Jim mock saluted, grabbed the bed sheets, swirled them back and away in one dramatic movement, setting some papers on the desk rippling in the draft. He knelt on the floor, level with McCoy’s hips, and reached out. McCoy held his breath and puffed as soon as he felt the strong hand engulf him, but he put his hands behind his head. “I said, _suck_ me.”

Jim’s face and neck were flushed already, his expression serious, clearly affected by Bones tone of voice. “Love sucking your cock,” he murmured, his eyes darting from Bones mouth to his groin and back again. “Love you.”

McCoy sat up and grabbed Jim’s short hair, pulling him up to stop him talking. What had got into him? He didn’t usually go in for declarations. “Come on, darlin’, it’s going to break in a minute.” OK, he’d admit it, maybe that was a conscious down-home drawl ‘cause he knew it drove Jim crazy.

He felt Jim’s breath ghost over his belly, little dry kisses near his navel. Then his tongue darted in and McCoy bucked up again. “Jim,” he hissed, his hands flailing for some contact. Until last night, they hadn’t fucked since before the tribunal, before the _Narada_. He couldn’t believe it had just been a few days. So much tension built up, so much relief and collective grief from all the deaths, so much worry, little wonder they needed to make up for lost time and touch as often as they could.

McCoy hadn’t had an opportunity to reflect on his own experience yet; it was all about Nero and Earth, Spock and Jim, which was as it should be, but he badly needed to decompress on a personal level and those pink lips were going to help a great deal, free him momentarily from the faces of those he couldn’t save, the fear of losing Jim, the rage he’d felt at Spock, the strange calm that had come over him when he’d become acting CMO and he just _knew_ who he was. The first sense of peace since he’d left Jocelyn.

Kirk’s nails raked the inside of McCoy’s thighs, making him shudder with need. “Fuck,” he said. Kirk had rested his head on McCoy belly as if it was a pillow; McCoy stroked it gently, rubbing the back of Kirk’s neck. He couldn’t see his face but he could sense that Jim was deep in thought, his hand stroking Bones but not really concentrating. Jim twisted his head to look at him and he felt a rush when he locked eyes with him, bright, pale blue in the diffused morning light. McCoy marveled at the hold they had over him, how one look could twist his guts, light up his cock.

“Jim?”

Something dark traversed Jim’s face and he sat up, let go of Bones and straddled his thighs instead. Okay, no blow job, what happened there?

But this was good too.

“Where’s the lube?” Jim quietly asked, taking McCoy’s hand and sucking on his fingers one at a time, real slow and deliberate.

Bones reached under Jim’s pillow and rooted around, never taking his eyes off Jim. “Here.”

Something was wrong, unrelated to what had happened on the ship, something since they’d got back – something new. Jim had been hesitant, slightly distracted but now, between them, with hands and tongues and Jim impaling himself on Bones until they both collapsed in a sweaty heap, their limbs intertwined as tight as was possible, mouths clamped to each other, tongues searching, they made _it_ , whatever it was, recede into the background for a while.

 

II  
Jim spent most of the next day in debrief with Admiralty. McCoy had plenty to occupy himself with, an ‘informal’ meeting of his own with senior staff where he had to explain how and why he had smuggled Jim onto the _Enterprise_. He had declined representation, gruffly making a thin case for the value of friendship and used his prize stallion line again realizing it sounded a bit more impressive now that Jim had actually _won_ the Kentucky Derby.

There was no question that, had it not been for the happy outcome of the mission and for Pike’s hospital bed influence, McCoy would have been out on his ass. Then again, if there had been an un-happy outcome, they’d all be dead so it was all fucking academic. He told them as much, making no effort to charm them. Jim would have been proud. But there were no hints from the impassive faces on the board – he, _they_ (because it affected Jim too) would just have to wait on a verdict.

“I told you there was nothing to worry about,” Jim said, at McCoy’s desk. He’d uploaded all his comm messages onto the computer so he didn’t have to squint at the tiny screen and he sat clicking and deleting and replying patiently. He’d rebuffed McCoy’s offer of help to filter them and refused to block any incoming messages. “It’ll all disappear soon, Bonesy. Before you know it we’ll be on the _Enterprise_ together. Five years away from all this shit. New beginnings, man.” Kirk refused to discuss the possibility that McCoy would be court-martialed.

“The fuckers will do _something_ to make me pay, post me on another ship or some virus-soaked colony on the edges of the galaxy—”

“It won’t happen,” Kirk said. Stubborn little shit. “I’m going out for coffees.” And Kirk was out of the door like the slippery little eel he’d become over the past 48 hours. Engrossed in _something_ , whatever it was that McCoy had sensed yesterday morning. Since then, Kirk had spun a wall about himself that McCoy knew wouldn’t be worth trying to penetrate but it worried him that they’d become separated by his command. Something was up, and it wasn’t space lag. He’d overheard a whispered comm conversation with Gaila when he came out of the shower, and when he’d asked what they were up to Kirk had replied, “Captainy stuff, Bones.”

“You can be a patronizing, arrogant dick, anyone ever tell you that?”

“You?”

“This time I mean it.” What was he being so damn secretive about and why wasn’t McCoy in on the loop? The comm beeped again and the subject line flashed up on the screen. Bones peered at it.

‘Golden boy, you ignoring my message? NOT a good idea.’

What the hell?

+++

“You were a long time…”

“Bumped into Gaila. We got talking…”

“Jim.”

Jim scowled. “ _What_?”

“You’re holding out on me.” And, maybe because he was hurt that Jim hadn’t trusted him with whatever had been going on, he couldn’t stop himself, “Golden boy,” he added, raising an eyebrow.

Jim set down the two large cups of coffee and dropped onto the bed, looked at his hands, appeared to consider for a moment, then looked back at Bones. “How do you know?”

“I don’t _know_ anything. “ He sat opposite on the small couch. “OK, I know you got a comm. “

Jim’s eyes narrowed and he blinked. Bones raised a hand, “Don’t get excited, I didn’t open it. It was just there. Some stalker or what?” He ground his teeth when Jim didn’t take the opportunity to answer so he tried again. “And you didn’t just bump into Gaila, did you?”

“No. She… she’s agreed to help me out with something. “ Hesitation in Jim was rare, unsettling.

“And are you gonna tell me what this something is or do I have to threaten you?”

Jim was standing right beside him now. Bones folded his arms. Jim appeared to consider. “Threaten me with what, Bones? Pouts?” And with that, Kirk smartly changed the tone, took control of the conversation so he was no longer on the defensive.

“Dammit, Jim, I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” He pressed his lips against Bones’ temple. “There’s nothing to worry about. You trust me, right?”

“As much as a rattlesnake in a basket.” He pulled Jim towards him, unzipping his fly.

“Was that intentional, the whole Freudian analogy as you move in for the kill?” Kirk placed his hands either side of McCoy’s face, letting out sharp breaths when Bones bit the palms of his hands.

“No,” Bones said, pulling out Jim’s cock, “This isn’t a snake.”

“And this isn’t a basket,” Jim grinned, allowing his pants to drop to his ankles.

+++

They’d been home three days, and it was McCoy’s turn to get a message.

_Hey, little lady, wanna see your boyfriend suck dick?_

Unknown caller.

His eyes immediately shot to Jim, who walked beside him. They stopped and he handed the comm to him. “This is what’s been pissing you off, isn’t it?”

Jim read the message and McCoy watched how he went from light to dark in a split second. “While it was just me, that’s one thing, but he’s contacting you now…”

“Who the fuck is it, Jim?”

“I can handle it, Bones.” He started walking again and McCoy grabbed his arm.

“Jim. Wait a minute, handle _what_?”

+++

Back in his room, McCoy watched the vid.

“Jesus, Jim –“

“Hot, huh?” His tone slightly amused, unconcerned. “I was gonna tell you but you had enough on your mind with your case.”

“It’s not a case. It’s an ‘informal discussion’,” he grumbled, relieved that Jim had decided to level with him.

For Jim, the darkness had dissipated as quickly as it had come. Now it was like they were in two different plays: while Bones strode about the stage waving his arms, brandishing plot-turning letters and grinding his teeth in an Elizabethan melodrama; Kirk was the star in an Oscar Wilde farce, all cross-legged charm and knowing glances at the audience.

“Are you kidding me?” McCoy couldn’t believe that Jim actually smirked. “He’s got footage of you sucking dick.”

Kirk shrugged. “You know something, Bones, I don’t care.”

This didn’t fit with the scowls, the fact that Jim had seemed preoccupied, the fact that he was _up_ to something with Gaila who, it seemed, had become his favored co-conspirator. If he was honest with himself, McCoy was pissed that Jim hadn’t come to him.

“OK. _You_ don’t care. That’s just peachy. But have you even considered what this would do to your family, to the crew, to…shit, Jim, he’s got a vid of you sucking _dick_ —” McCoy ran his fingers through his hair and huffed back onto the bed.

Kirk poured two glasses of whiskey and handed one to McCoy. “You telling me the crew, Sulu, Spock, Scotty after what we’ve been through together would give a shit about this?”

“I—”

“From what I know of them, the kind of people they are, they’re loyal, Bones. All of us have something about us we don’t want others to see. I’m no different. If Ass-hat sells the vid to the press, so be it.”

“And that’s what he said he’d do? My God, Jim, he could ruin you.”

“It won’t ruin me. I’m, well…let’s say I’ve got a lot of points in the bag.” He had his I’ve-survived-worse face on. “Whatever happens, I won’t be forced by anyone,” he said quietly. ”That he even thinks he can make me do anything, _that_ makes me mad, man. Guy’s a fucking bully.”

“Maybe you won’t get thrown out, but the film will end up on those Klingon tabloid holosites, shit… how you can be so, I dunno… _nonchalant_ about this—”

“You should see your lips and what they do when you come out with polysyllabic, French words.”

“Stop flirting with me.” McCoy looked at Jim’s feet -- they couldn’t distract him like those eyes or that mouth. Jim wasn’t wearing any shoes which, McCoy’s cock reminded him with a tickle of heat, constituted _partly_ undressed. Jim didn’t deny he was flirting and McCoy hadn’t quite figured out how the bastard used sex to control situations or, whether he liked or disliked the fact. While he was considering all this, Jim pushed McCoy onto his back and popped open the buttons on his shirt, patently diverting him.

“You’ll have to leave this with me. Trust me,” Jim said. He slid warm hands under the fabric and pushed them into McCoy’s armpits, scoring blunt nails down to hips that were already dry humping the air.

“I hate it when you say that.” Then McCoy thought of something and pushed up on an elbow. “Jim, you can’t ignore this – this isn’t just about you. It could hurt…I don’t know… your mom, me, Pike, Joanna…” he hesitated. “The _memory_ of—”

Jim raised a hand to stay him. “Did you really think for a minute that I wouldn’t have thought about how this would affect everyone I know?” He sounded irritated, tired again. Of course he had; the man was a genius, his brain was hard-wired to think of everything. “So this is why I’m going to put a stop to him.”

McCoy was sitting up now, “What the fuck are you going to do? Pay him off?”

Kirk snorted. “What with?”

“Don’t play the innocent, Jim, you haven’t got anything _now_ , but everyone’s after you. You’re famous in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“He hasn’t asked me for anything yet—no credits, nothing. Just the comms. Scores of them.”

“Then we’ve got a real problem, Jim. If he’s not interested in money, he’s interested in power – _that’s_ worrying.”

“I’m not worried. I’m gonna meet with him and _discuss_ the situation.” His face lit up with a smile that would have broken McCoy’s heart if he hadn’t been so irritated.

“Jim, you hurt this guy, or threaten him in anyway, it’ll come back and bite you in the ass.”

“It’ll be fine. I just need to see Gaila. In fact, Bones,” Jim’s eyes grew wide, “there may even be a part for you to play in my master plan.”

If eye rolls made a sound, the windows in the whole block would have shattered.

 

+++

III  
It didn’t take long; a few hours in the lab when it was quiet and McCoy had fulfilled his part of the plan. And if he’d had any doubts, his latest comm convinced him they were doing the right thing. It was another snippet of Jim giving head but this time with cheerleading music playing over the top.

“Why, that son-of-a—” McCoy kicked the door hard.

“Bones, stop. You show him you’re pissed and he gets the upper hand.” Well, this was a novelty: Jim calming him down for a change.

“Now you sound like Spock,” McCoy groused, when what Kirk really sounded like was the poker player he was.

The door chimed. It was Gaila with a box of cookies and a PADD, smiling like she’d just got the cream. Jim kissed her on the cheek and McCoy shunted over on the couch. “Okay,” Kirk said, “Let’s go over this one more time…”

+++

They’d caught a cab for the long haul to Ass Hat’s restaurant.

“Know somethin’, Jim, I’m surprised you agreed to meet him here. Why not neutral territory?”

“Think about it. He doesn’t know I’m here to fight. He’s the cockerel in his own scratch of yard and it makes him feel safe and, as long as he feels safe, I’ve got the upper hand.” Jim squeezed McCoy’s knee.

“Yeah, well I’m reassured.” McCoy counted to ten but really, he just couldn’t stop himself adding, “You could get hurt.”

“It’ll be fine. Trust me, I’m your captain.”

“Not officially you’re not.”

“Give them time, Bones, it always takes them a while to catch me up. I will be your captain.” And he punched Bones on the arm.

 

+++

The restaurant was well known, popular among the sort of people who bought art because the color matched their décor, or so Jim had said.

“You said you’d come alone.” Mart Currie looked peeved but gestured to a private booth. Mart wore pale blue suit trousers and illegal crocodile-skin shoes. His shirt had sweat stains under the arms. McCoy was disappointed he didn’t look like a villain. A cigar at least would have made him look evil as opposed to just a bit too pleased with himself. “We’ll sit here away from prying eyes. I don’t think the press will know you’re here,” Mart said. McCoy huffed and Kirk shot him a look.

“It’s been kinda crazy since we got home,” Kirk smiled. Mid-afternoon, the restaurant was quiet, a few couples at small tables, muted music playing, the clatter in the kitchens as the staff cleared up. “Nice new place you got, how long you been here?”

“A year. It’s nice, sure, but you can’t get decent staff.” Mart sidled up a bit closer to Jim and McCoy could feel his hackles go up. He couldn’t help marveling at how composed Jim looked. It might as well have been a social event the way he sat easily in the booth, running his finger up and down the side of the tall glass of beer.

McCoy sweated in his shirt, unhappily squashed up inside the booth. He glanced at the ‘heavies’ keeping an eye out from a near-by table and wondered how two such massive guys could fit into shoes at all. McCoy marveled at how his balls had grown in the past week. Sure he felt anxious hemmed in like this, but he couldn’t see how they were under any real threat. He’d just have to play his part, stay calm, and treat this like a medical procedure – take himself out of the situation, not think about what could go wrong by focusing on one moment at a time. Just as soon as he’d got one or two things out of his system.

“Dammit, Jim. You’re not going to make small talk with this asshole, are you?” The two heavies loosened arms at their sides when they heard him raise his voice.

Mart glared at McCoy as if he’d seen him for the first time. “Ah, I recognize you now. Mrs. Kirk, isn’t it?”

McCoy glared right back. Jim had told him very little about the guy. All McCoy knew was he’d bussed tables in his restaurant in the first few weeks at the academy. He knew they’d fallen out and Jim had told him where to stick his job. Somewhere along the line, Jim had played his part in the vid.

“Mart,” Kirk soothed, taking McCoy’s hand under the table, “Leonard is merely concerned that the messages stop once and for all.” He let go once McCoy started breathing again. “He found them quite upsetting.” He slid a little closer to Martin in the booth. “I didn’t. You probably worked that out already!” They both laughed. McCoy watched Kirk’s teeth flashing in the candle light and wondered where Jim had learned to hide his feelings like that. He took a deep breath, suddenly mad at himself for not making an effort to be civil towards the scum bag.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.” His voice was thick with sarcasm but at least he’d said the right words. That would do. He sipped at his beer and thumbed some foam off his lip. “So, we going to do this or what?”

“He’s very impatient,“ Mart said. “The pushy type.”

“Leonard, let’s finish our beers first, okay?” The way Jim called him Leonard and not Bones in front of this sleaze acted like a sedative. McCoy felt his hands unclench, his shoulders relax, and he didn’t say another word. He sipped his beer and listened patiently while they talked about past employees at the restaurant and Jim answered the slightly star-struck scumbag’s questions about their mission in a roundabout way. McCoy was impressed but not surprised how effortlessly Kirk made Mart feel special. “Well, that’s classified but one thing I _can_ tell you is…” so Mart felt he was getting something even though he wasn’t.

“Sure, and you never know, maybe I can take you on the _Enterprise_ for a tour. We’ve got a couple of those happening and there’s quite a waiting list, I can tell you. But I’m sure I can pull a few strings.” Jim tapped the end of his nose conspiratorially. McCoy rolled his eyes – this performance was veering on the side of camp, but if Jim was enjoying himself, that was fine with him. He clenched his teeth when Mart slipped his hand under the table and groped Jim, who laughed a throaty laugh and winked at McCoy. Dirty fuck – he couldn’t wait to see Mart get his comeuppance.

And Jim was doing his pretending-to-be-drunk thing, which McCoy had witnessed in so many pool halls and maybe once or twice in his own seduction. This way it was easy to get behind enemy lines, feigning weakness, making out he was the goat tethered to the post for the lion and then he’d turn. Mart whispered in Jim’s ear and Jim reacted by draining his beer and saying, “C’mon, Leonard. Time to party.”

Mart indicated to the heavies to stay behind and they made for the elevator.

Mart and Jim walked ahead down the corridor to the penthouse and McCoy trailed behind, deep breathing, his messenger bag at his side. The dirty comms that Kirk had been sending back daily since he and McCoy had talked had Mart in a state of barely contained excitement. His body language spoke of the old man flattered by the young boy, unaware what a grotesque he was, believing in his own charms, and Kirk played the role of fawning acolyte like a pro, looping his arm through Mart’s while they stood at the door, waiting for Mart to open it.

“Well, two such pretty boys is quite a bonus,” Mart slurred, his eyes raking over McCoy who really did his best not to roll his eyes. “You aren’t going to bite now, are you?”

McCoy shrugged, pulling his messenger bag to him, suddenly really fucking looking forward to payback time. His only hope was that he didn’t actually have to touch the bastard before Jim decided to put on the house lights.

No sooner were they through the door and Kirk had his hand at Mart’s throat, turned him in one movement and settled him heavily, face pressed against he wall.

“Fuck, Jim, I thought we had an, uff…agreement?”

Kirk laughed, and this time it was real, laced with derision, “Like Starfleet would do tours. Like I’d ever touch a scumbag like you again, a) _because_ you’re a scumbag and, b) because I’m with Leonard. Period.” Kirk leaned in so his face was close to Mart’s red cheek. And like a child who was used to being bullied, Mart gave up on first contact.

“You don’t know what you’re fucking doing. Jim, I could have you ruined.” His voice a croak, no sting, no bite, just the death throes of an insect against an immovable force that was Jim Kirk.

“No. I _really_ know what I’m fucking doing and you know the difference between you and me—?”

“’Sides the fact he’s a scumbag—?” McCoy chipped in.

“Yes, besides that. I know my limitations. I know when I can do something on my own and when I need help. You on the other hand have taken on me and my crew.”

“What do you mean? They know about this?” Sweat glistened on his cheeks and his eyes rolled as he looked for an escape route.

“Do you have any idea how they’d react to you threatening me when we’ve fought side by side like we just did? While you were sitting in your penthouse jerking off, we were squaring up against evil. Man, that’s like the difference between… like—” Kirk searched for the right analogy.

“King Kong and Tom Thumb?” McCoy offered.

“Julius Caesar and the guy who wipes butts?” Kirk said with a chuckle, his hand still tight around the back of Mart’s.

“I think we should quit horsing around, Jim.” McCoy growled, mighty pleased with how his tone came out. “Get down to business.”

“Shit, what’re you gonna do?” Martin struggled for the first time, his feet scuffling against the skirting board.

“I’m going to give you a taste of your own medicine. You, sir, are going to suck _my_ cock.”

“And why’s he here?” Mart’s eyes shot to McCoy and there was pleading there. For a moment McCoy almost changed his mind, feeling sorry for the little fuck.

“I’m flexible on that one. Either he joins in or he breaks your back. I know you might find this hard to believe but Leonard over there was first in hand-to-hand combat in our final year. He was so vicious that we took to calling him Bones on account of the amount of men he dispatched to the infirmary with broken limbs.” Kirk looked pointedly at his friend and McCoy raised his eyebrow and pursed his lips in what he hoped was a dastardly expression.

“I still have the video.” Mart’s voice was a squeak but he did have a point.

“I know, Martin.” Kirk stroked his hair. “But we’re going to have one of our own now, aren’t we Leonard? One that might find its way to some of your leading suppliers. You should thank me for allowing you this opportunity for fame, though.” Kirk turned him round and slammed him back against the wall, pinning his plump arms above his head. “You’ll find that fame isn’t what it’s cut out to be.” Kirk allowed Mart’s hands to drop to his sides. “Now kneel down.” McCoy was a little disgusted at how readily Mart complied and he felt a bolt of desire for Kirk that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

“They won’t like it when I tell them the circumstances surrounding the vid,” Kirk continued, loosening his grip on Mart and holding his hand out in the space between them to indicate that he should stay where he was. Now Mart was like a rabbit in the headlights, mesmerized by Kirk’s words. “I’m sure they’d love to hear how you threatened Marie with suspension because she wouldn’t let you fuck her. I was trying to keep you from her. Sure, it was all my choice but you made me sick to my stomach. I hoped you’d be all over me for a couple of weeks until I could leave, so I put up with you touching me, making disgusting remarks into my ear.” Kirk grabbed Mart’s face and squashed his cheeks so he looked ridiculous, “You have no idea how much that pisses me off, Mart, the big guy hurting the small guy. But you love to wave your dick around and wield your power. You fired her all the same.”

“After I fired you.”

McCoy could barely hear Mart’s choked response.

“Yeah, well I had it coming. I busted your lip. Directly after I blew you, if I recall.” He let go of Mart’s face and began unbuckling his belt. “Soon as I figured out you had the camera.”

“Listen, Jim, I’m sure we can work something out.” Mart pressed back into the wall.

“We did that already. We worked it out in our comms, remember?”

Martin looked confused, “You didn’t say anything about this. I thought you wanted to…”

“What I said, and I never forget _anything_ , Mart, was that I’d love it to be the other way around. I didn’t say you’d like it.”

Martin’s eyes scanned the room, looking for an escape route. Making a supreme effort to modulate his voice, he said, “Look, I’m sure we can let bygones be bygones. Now I’ve met you up close again, I feel bad. I was toying with you. It was wrong, I see that now.”

“How does Jim know you won’t have another mood swing?” McCoy said. “What’s to say you won’t change your mind once he’s not here and use what you’ve got to get to him? We can’t risk it, can we, Jim?”

“What we need to do, Martin, is make _sure_ that you can’t bother me again. Leonard, get the lube.” Kirk began to unbuckle his belt one-handed with that dexterity that McCoy had seen him put to great use in bed so many times. Meanwhile, he went to his bag and rummaged inside.

“Stop! What are you going to do? You can’t hurt me, I’ll have you exposed.”

“Do you honestly expect me to believe that you are going to step back and leave me alone just because you like the way I turned out? You’ve already proved to me that you don’t keep promises.”

“I can change!”

“I want to believe that, and because of that, I’m going to give you a helping hand. Leonard—”

McCoy stepped to Kirk’s side, leaned over and promptly hypoed Mart in the groin. Poor bastard leaped to his feet, scrabbled his waistband and peered down, hissing in pain.

“Fuck! What did you just do?” Kirk stepped away so Mart could clutch his balls... “I said, what the _fuck_ did you do?”

“Dr. McCoy can explain.” Kirk beckoned to McCoy with an open palm, a smirk on his lips, while he buckled up his pants again.

“I’ve injected a chip into you. It’s very sophisticated and developed by one of Starfleet’s most talented engineers along with Jim here who – you won’t know this – is almost as good with computer science as he is at kicking Romulan ass, both pastimes motivated by sheer love.”

“Thank you, Leonard,” Jim beamed.

“You’re welcome,” McCoy drawled. “Now, the chip on its own won’t do anything. Sure, it’s a basic tracking device, but as well as that, it’s a switch.”

“A switch that, thanks to one of my talented crew--” Jim said.

“That’ll be the engineer,“ McCoy interrupted, “—releases a tiny amount of Mordovian Harem Powder.”

“And what do you think they have in harems _apart_ form lots of beautiful ladies, Martin?” Kirk said, grinning at McCoy.

“Eunuchs.” Mart looked like he was going to cry.

“That’s right, Casanova.” Kirk stepped to Leonard’s side. “I get one more threatening message or call, you so much as look at that vid again and—”

“Pfft!” McCoy mimed firing off a hypo.

“All controlled remotely, thanks to a collaboration between my engineer, and my CMO, and it’s bye-bye erection. And the effects last a month. Roughly. Hard to tell, we didn’t have time to test it on humans and Leonard assured me that even if we had, you’re such a snake that the physiology would be inaccurate.” Kirk bit his lip and looked at McCoy, “Shall we?”

McCoy took one last look at Martin’s face. He’s slid down to the floor and was gazing morosely at his groin.

“Hey, Mart. It’ll all work fine in a few days. I gave you a small dose. You jus’ got to keep your end of the deal, is all,” McCoy said.

+++  
IV  
“Mordovian Harem Powder! Can you believe he bought that, Bones!” In the cab, Kirk wrapped his arm around McCoy’s neck and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“Hey, it wasn’t so bad. I had to come up with the name in a hurry. The stuff still works, whatever fool name we gave it.” Kirk smirked. McCoy watched his lips hungrily as he leaned closer. “How the hell did we pull that off?”

“We were like a couple of Starfleet Intelligence agents!” Kirk said. The cab halted in downtown traffic. “Bones, I didn’t ask you before, but did you test out the chip before you hypoed him?”

“Of course, what do you take me for?” McCoy’s asked, his tone indignant. “It would have been unethical, no matter how obnoxious the subject, without at least testing it on a dog or something—”

Jim grabbed his arm, “A dog. Tell me you didn’t hurt a dog—”

McCoy laughed. “Don’t be so primitive. We don’t have any need for any kind of animal testing anymore, you idiot. I tested it on a willing subject.”

“Who?”

McCoy waited a beat. “Me,” he said.

“When?”

“In the bathroom this morning.”

Jim’s eyes were wide. “ _A month_?”

“Not that long. Sure, it takes a while to wear off, but I took a small dose. It may be another week before we can fuck.” Jim looked panicked. Black holes, snow monsters, Nero he could handle, but a week without sex and he looked like _he’d_ been backed against the wall. And not in a good way. McCoy gazed out of the window at the rush hour traffic, swallowing down the urge to grin.

Jim watched him closely and finally said, “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m a scientist Jim, belief is for …well…people who aren’t.”

“You are the worst liar I have _ever_ met.” He was smiling now, “I can tell, there are…” he indicated his own face “…clues, around the eyes.” McCoy allowed himself a smile and he watched as Kirk’s lips pursed into what wasn’t quite a pout, but what McCoy had privately labeled his ‘thinking mouth.’ “Wanna know something, Bones?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway. “ His voice was a little thick.

“That’s made me so hard, we’re going to have to get supplies in. I’m not letting you out of that room ‘til—” Kirk stopped dead and stared a little open mouthed at McCoy. McCoy knew that sliding down in the back seat of the cab, raising an eyebrow and tilting his chin at Kirk, lips slightly parted, challenging him, would normally have Jim clawing at his clothing within minutes.

Shame he’d have to wait.

+++

The cab was still pulling away and, “Fuck, thought we’d never get here.” Kirk pushed McCoy through the door, slid behind him so they were spooning as they moved like kids playing trains the five steps to the desk.

“Can’t you wait until I at least put my bag down?” McCoy allowed it to drop to the floor, his hands slipping behind him to hold onto Kirk’s hips, his head craning to press lips somewhere, anywhere on that smug face. “We’re here,” he said when he’d walked right into the table and Jim had bent him over it. Jim’s hands stroked his thighs briefly but McCoy could tell he was in one of those moods where foreplay wasn’t really an option.

“Fuck, don’t know which way round I want you, need to fuck you so bad.” Jim ground his hips into McCoy, hands flailing for buttons, pulling at the belt, chin on McCoy’s back, teeth tugging at the fabric of his shirt. “Fuck it, turn around.”

McCoy did as he was asked and then placed his palm on Jim’s chest and pushed him gently half a step away. “Keep your clothes on,” he said and shucked his shoes off. He pulled shirt tails out of his jeans, eyes fixed on Jim, popping one button at a time, deliberately, making it last, his cock burning with anticipation. Something in him wanted to tease Jim, make him appreciate what he was getting. He undid the buttons at his cuffs and smiled when he saw how Jim was practically drooling with want.

“Need to fuck you,” Jim managed to say, tilting his head to one side as he waited, rubbing himself through denim.

“You’re getting monosyllabic, kid.”

Jim watched steel-eyed as McCoy shoved his jeans down long thighs till they dropped to the floor and he could step out of them. Last thing to go was McCoy’s shirt. He allowed it to slide off his shoulders, then arms, and fall to the floor. He brought one hand to his bottom lip and ran his index finger side to side, blinking at Jim, waiting, inviting him. With a grunt, Jim grabbed McCoy’s wrist and pulled his hand away, replacing it with his lips, and proceeded to kiss him thoroughly, his teeth gnawing gently at McCoy’s lower lip, sending shudders through him. McCoy draped his arms over Jim’s shoulders, tugging him close but not doing anything to help relieve the tension.

“You lied to me.” Jim’s eyes were hot, probing. He glanced down at McCoy’s cock, pressed against him.

“I know how to get to you, is all.” McCoy ran his tongue over Jim’s lips, freely admitting to himself that it worked the other way around, too.

“Ornery bastard,” Jim managed to say, momentarily pulling his mouth away, then back again, licking, that probing, hot tongue smothering whatever answer McCoy had been preparing.

This was more like it, McCoy thought. This was ‘their thing,’ _this_ was how it went. He sighed as Jim encouraged him to lift up onto the desk, his bare skin rubbed against by denim, cotton, Jim’s nails and teeth, ass cold on the wood. Jim held McCoy’s face and gazed at him, turned it slightly so he could kiss the side of McCoy’s eyes, his cheek, back to his lips, fucking him with his tongue, murmuring his name, licking slowly down his neck, feasting on him like they hadn’t done this in months rather than the few hours since morning. Jim grabbed fistfuls of hair and exposed McCoy’s neck, his breath hot and moist, mouth covering his Adam’s Apple while he rummaged in the desk drawer for lube. “Where the hell is it, Bones?”

McCoy couldn’t help but laugh. It was relief, triumph and just the sheer feeling of everything being right at last. He popped open the new tube he’d put in the drawer the day before and squeezed a generous amount onto the palm of his hand.

“Let me,” he half-whispered into Jim’s mouth. “I’m better with my hands than you are.” His tongue explored Jim’s mouth, running over his teeth, feeling the gasps of breath in response to his hand slicking Jim’s cock. Another dollop and he covered Jim’s fingers for him, pumping them as if they were a cock too, driving Jim crazy with the image, if the moans were anything to go by.

“You’re making me wait, Bones, can’t wait—” and Jim parted his thighs, pushed them back so that his calves were at either side of Jim’s chest and he could guide his fingers in, a bit too quick.

It hurt a little as he opened him but then he found his prostate and it was McCoy’s turn to unravel. He dug short nails into Jim’s shoulders and hissed his pleasure. “Jim, _fuck_ …so good…so…”

McCoy’s legs wrapped around Jim’s back tugging him closer, wary of the sore ribs as Jim eased into him, inch by precious inch, his eyes tearing into McCoy’s. “Love fucking you, can’t get enough… love it…” and he rolled his head, eyes tight shut as he gathered himself when he’d gone as far as he could. “There. Got you.” Holding still, he finally kissed McCoy again, those plump, talented lips suddenly tender and sweet, exploring every crevice of McCoy’s mouth, lips slick against each other, teeth eating him, sucking on McCoy’s tongue, still holding the lower half of his body absolutely still, breathing heavy and labored.

“Bones—” he grunted, and that one word from Jim’s mouth filled McCoy with such joy he had to bite his lip to stop himself blabbing about feelings he rarely consciously thought about, but that were present in every exchange and look and touch between them, never more so than now, when _finally_ , Jim fucked him with a savagery that was about letting shit go, moving on. One hand was on McCoy’s hip, digging hard, lifting him to the right angle and the other nails dragging along his cock, refusing to grip him, knowing that the desperation was what McCoy liked best because, in the end, he loved free-falling as much as Jim did.

“Jim, need this, God…fuck me… _Jim_ …”

And then, miraculously, suddenly everything was perfect fire, and peaceful light, and just them. They couldn’t hear the desk slamming against the wall, the rattle of the pens in the tray behind McCoy, the incessant fucking bleeping of Jim’s comm, the slap of flesh against flesh. In that perfect moment, all that existed was the two of them, unsure where one ended and the other began as they came in long, cleansing pulses, marking each other with sweat and come and saliva until Jim collapsed onto McCoy’s chest, his face flushed, wet and covered in smirk. It felt like the end of something and the beginning of something else.

“We’ll have to play wiseguys again if it gets you that hot for me!” Kirk chuckled, pulling out, grabbing McCoy’s arm and planting a clumsy kiss on his chest.

“I can’t speak.” McCoy croaked, flexing one leg and allowing it to collapse to the floor.

“Well that makes a nice change,” Kirk said into the nape of his neck, “Should have fucked you before we went to meet with Ass-Hat.”

McCoy frowned, “You _did_ , if I recall. On the bed, like a civilized Captain, not like this, like some desperate teenager who can’t control himself.” He groaned and pushed Jim off him and headed for the bed.

“I thought you couldn’t speak?” Jim crawled up beside him and kissed his shoulder, his neck and jaw. McCoy pressed his lips together and grabbed the pillow pulling it right under his neck. He raised an eyebrow. Jim’s face became serious and he pressed another kiss just above his eye. “Made me hot for you when you wouldn’t shut up in there.”

“Is that right?” McCoy grumbled, dragging a thumb across Jim’s mouth.

“Bones McCoy, Starfleet’s primo bodyguard.”

McCoy’s eyes were closed. “Go to sleep or I’ll hypo you with some of the eunuch powder I kept for an emergency.”

+++

“Jim, I didn’t put anything in the chip.” Kirk opened one eye. He looked at Jim sideways. “Are you mad?”

Kirk rolled onto his side to face McCoy. “No. Compassion is an important quality in a captain,” Kirk replied, his voice a little sleep-heavy.

“But you said you were all about the revenge.” McCoy trailed his hand down Kirk’s chest, trying to see out of his peripheral vision if he was erect or not.

“Yes, revenge is one thing, but I’m not a sadist, Bones, you know that.”

McCoy’s hand made its way to Jim’s waist, skimming his hip bone, round the back to his ass. Pulling him closer so they were chest to chest and, yes, Jim was hard.

“The way you lick those fucking lips of yours across the room at me when I can’t do anything about it, I’d say you were.”

“The guy got taught a lesson but no one’s hurt. He won’t do anything out of line so whether or not the chip’s got anything it makes no difference,” Kirk said. They kissed long and slow, mouths a little dry from sleep, musky but warm and willing and always hungry for each other. “Plus, I knew you wouldn’t,” Jim whispered.

McCoy pulled away, letting go of Jim’s cock where he’d been gently tugging at it. “You _knew_. What?” He shook his head, flopped back onto the pillow. “Godammit, Jim, you’re like one of the Greek gods, fucking with everything behind the scenes.” He turned to look at Jim, his eyes blue, impenetrable but open at the same time. He was like some ancient puzzle it would take him a lifetime to crack. “Thank goodness you’re using your powers for good.” Jim laughed. “Now shut up and suck me,” McCoy growled.

“Bones. I knew you’d say that too.” Jim’s body shook with laughter.

“That’s _it_. I’m just going to have to fuck you. Turn over.” He hit Jim with the pillow.

“No,” Jim folded his arms, “I’m the captain. I get to top.”

“Not in bed you aren’t. ‘Sides, it’s bad manners to pull rank on your boyfriend.”

Jim didn’t answer, his tongue lapping at the tip of McCoy’s cock, stroking his balls and dragging his teeth down the shaft, his eyes dropped shut, framed by pale lashes and his forehead furrowed as he concentrated.

It was the most beautiful sight McCoy had ever seen.

FIN

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